just a ledge away
by Insherlockstardisathogwarts
Summary: Teenager Au. John moves into a new house with a rather strange neighbor. His curiosity gets the better of him and he climbs across the small ledge separating their houses to find out more.
1. Chapter 1

John looked down at the boxes around his new room. Yes, this would do. He could live with this, coming into his new home every night and reading, just like he used to. No, nothing had to change at all. Just a new stupid town and a new boring school to attend. It wasn't the first time he'd had to put up with his parents tracking to a brand new country. Just when he'd settle in, he'd be told he had to leave all of his new friends and travel half way around the world to start a fresh. Every single time he didn't make a fuss, because what would be the point really? He'd never fit in at all anyway, he could count on one hand just how many friends he had.

But as he stepped through the doors to his new home, the warm breeze sept into his lungs and gave him a strange feeling; something was different about this place. He raced up the stairs "I'm calling my room!" He shouted back down to his younger sister harry, listening to her shout a retort but not really bothering to slow down. The room that greeted him first was small but warm. The bed was already set in a corner and his boxes had been spread around it. It would do.

He glanced over to a small window in the corner of the room. The clear glass was surrounded by old posters and an ugly yellow coloured paint, but that's not what caught his attention. What did, was a young boy around johns age. This peculiar young boy had thick black curly hair and was hunched over a desk, concentrating hard on something. He wondered just what could be so amazing to hold such a beautiful boys gaze. His feet were moving before his brain caught up to them, striding confidently over to the small space and swinging his legs up and over the ledge, sitting on the windowsill with his legs hanging out onto the ledge in front he watched, waiting for the strange boy to acknowledge him. Sadly, that didn't seem to be happening.

Curiosity got the better of him. He had to know just what was so interesting. Slowly taking a large step he put his foot onto the opposite ledge, the other boys ledge. After checking he ground was safe to put his weight on; he stepped fully onto the ledge and leaned onto the frame to support him. "I wouldn't do that by the way, it's dangerous," a deep, confident voice called through the gap. That could not belong to the same sweet boy he saw looking down at what he could now see was some sort of science experiment. That innocent face did not have a voice that sounded so deep and husky, he refused to believe it. "Are you deaf or just plain stupid? You're going to get yourself killed out there." The boy spoke again. Yes it was definitely his lips the deep words were coming from, " um I'm sorry, I -er- was just wondering what you were doing" he managed to speak out. What was it about this boy; he just couldn't seem to find the words he needed.

The dark haired stranger rose from his solitary spot with his 'experiment' to wander over to the window where he was stood. As he edged closer, he seemed to double in height. He was maybe 6 foot, much taller than any other 17 year old boy and a whole lot taller than John. The height difference became even more noticeable as he reached the glass and lifted the frame to gesture for John to enter. "Thank you" John said, lifting his foot up and onto the soft carpet. This boys room was almost as peculiar as his tall appearance; he looked johns age but the room suggested otherwise. It was much larger than johns but you wouldn't notice that straight away. It was filled with clutter, however it wasn't the usual clutter. There were hundreds of books filling he shelves and spilling onto the floor. Science equipment was scattered around every corner of the room and even on the bed. What on earth did he do in here? "I'm 18 yes, and yes this is my room. I just happen to like experiments. Now if that will be all, I'd like to get back to finding the concentration of sulphur dioxide needed to poison the average yellow bellied toad" he huffed.

To johns amazement the young boy sat straight back down where he had been just minutes before, ignoring his entire existence for all he knew. "How did you? I didn't even say. Just. What are you doing that for?" He stammered, the boy seemed so nice until he opened his mouth. "I'm curious, now stop talking or go back home" he replied. Well that made two of them he guessed, curiosity was a strange thing. He sat and watched him work for 5 minutes quietly, paying close attention to his long, slender fingers spreading across the worksheets and scribbling down frantic notes. John took this time to try and figure out just why he was there, sat in a boys house he didn't know a thing about, watching him poison a helpless animal and not caring one bit. Shouldn't he be running in fear right then? Getting as far away from him as humanly possible and swearing to never see him again. But for some reason he wasn't, for some reason he was drawn to him, wanting to find out more about his mysterious habits.

"Shut up" the dark haired stranger snapped. Glancing over his shoulder to where John was stood over him, watching his hands still at work. "What? I didn't say anything?" At least he didn't think he said anything, "You were thinking loudly. It's very irritating" he answered. How could someone think loudly? But despite his inner thoughts, he attempted to at least look like he had taken on board the instructions and straightened his back. Stepping forward he was snapped out of his trance; from the corner of his eye he could see harry standing in his bedroom across the alley way. Oh no, how on earth could he explain this?

"I have to go, I'm so sorry, I'll come back tomorrow-"

"Sherlock"

"I'll come back tomorrow Sherlock, I have to sort this out" and with out another word he jumped over to his ledge and into his room. This new house might not be so bad after all he thought to himself as he chased his giggling sister to explain.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Sherlock stepped through his bedroom doors for the 3rd time that day. It was very unusual for him to be so restless. In fact it was unusual for him to move even once for a food break, food was so tedious. It wasted time and was highly unnecessary to his experiments, all it did was distracts him from is work. But today was different; today was the first time in 6 months that he spoke to someone other than his older brother Mycroft. He had willingly replied to his questions and even deduced slightly what he was thinking. Why on earth did he do that? Mycroft had taught him that he didn't need people. No Sherlock Holmes did not need people to succeed; they would only ever hurt him to get what they wanted. So why did he forget that as soon as he had seen a boy walk into the room across from his home. As soon as he had noticed some movement he had ignored his experiment, because John's actions seemed much more interesting.

Something about john wasn't the same as all the other boring teenagers he had met. Every single one of them were idiots, looking for 'friends' and 'approval', it was absolutely ridiculous. But John didn't seem to be looking for his approval, he was quite hard to read if Sherlock was being honest. It would be fun trying to unwrap a new puzzle to find out how they worked inside. He paced around his room as he thought and his feet landed in front of his window, looking out to the opposite room. It would be so easy to just jump across and explore. The thought of it made him so excited, but no he couldn't, could he? He couldn't betray johns trust. It would scare him off; then he'd never get chance to find out everything he needed. Everything he needed to keep him occupied even just for a small amount of time. There were only so many experiments you could make up and Sherlock was running out quickly; solving a new one every day and moving on.

As he stood, he could just make out a small photograph in the very corner of the box room across from him. It was right next to johns bed and featured what looked like a very young john. He was maybe 4 or 5 and he was stood with an older man. The man had an arm around his small shoulders and was smiling brightly towards the camera. Their facial features were as similar as they could get without it being inhumane, so Sherlock guessed the man was his father. Again, this wasn't an average teenage thing to do, have a photo with your dad in your room instead of a best friend or even a girlfriend. There's another thing he planned to find out. The list was growing and growing; this experiment would hopefully be as satisfying as it was to prove Mycroft wrong. No, nothing could have made him that happy.

Throughout the day, sherlocks eyes kept glancing over to the window without thinking. It was becoming very hard to concentrate and he was about to give up and go out for a long walk when a flash of light appeared across the alley. It was john passing the entrance to his room and turning back to wander inside. His room was still a bomb site because his things hadn't found a place to be kept yet, but he clearly ignored it and jumped onto his clutter-free bed. He saw john pause a moment before he rose suddenly and walked to the window. Looking straight across at him Sherlock began to speak but he was cut off "Sherlock hi! How are you?" John spoke after he opened the window. He peered over the ledge and down to the floor, deciding if he should climb out. He didn't wait for an answer, eagerly stepping out, making his way over and plonking his feet onto sherlocks ledge, reaching a hand out for assistance. Sherlock grabbed his hand and pulled him inside, allowing him to walk around his room as he pleased. He just watched his movements for a moment, the child-like delight he seemed to have as he fidgeted with the acid containers. Acid. Oh god "don't touch that!" He shouted without thinking. John looked startled at the sudden noise' "oh, sorry I-" "It's acid that's all, I didn't mean to frighten you" he corrected himself. Why was he so quick to apologise, he didn't do anything wrong, if anything he was being considerate; not allowing the boy to burn his hands. He'd have to stop that, it wasn't healthy being so stupid,pointing out he obvious.

"So you didn't answer my question, how are you?" The sound broke through his thoughts. "Oh you don't care, neither of us need to hear this. You're slightly stressed from a long day of unpacking and learning the new surroundings. You have clearly been doing some form of exercise, a run I expect because you're emotionally tired from the log trip from, America is it? Away from your friends, not many of them, but the ones you had were close. That means you can't be that happy but you're coping I see, as you have left your room and are up for meeting new people, that's why you're here with me and not reading the new book you just started. So I already know how you are, any more conversation on the topic would be boring." Sherlock replied. Yes that sounded more like him, he could keep this up easily. "I er, I... What?" John couldn't help but let his jaw fall open, he looked like he had seen a ghost. His whole face went pale as he rose to his feet and turned towards the window. No that's not what Sherlock had intended at all. Why did always have to mess everything up? Everything was completely ruined, John was going to leave and not want to speak to him again. "Wait, I didn't mean-" he began, "Are you stalking me? No one can know that much from one meeting Sherlock, I've got to go" John continued to walk to the window, he quickly jumped through the gap and put his weight on the ledge once more. Sherlock followed him, trying to explain but his words failed him. He never had been very good with people; books were more his thing. He could analyse them, know them inside out. But people were difficult, so unpredictable.

As John urged himself forward his foot got caught on a loose tile, knocking him off balance. He reached out for the wall but it was too far away. Sherlocks mind went into overdrive, he couldn't let him fall. He launched himself forward. Grabbing onto John as tight as he could and dragged him back into his arms. His body pressed against johns fully. The feeling of heat from their whole body and the warm breath John let out as he relaxed into his arms let him feel safe fear slowly sept out of his bones and he began to come back to his senses. He was suddenly very aware that John was still in his arms breathing heavily against his chest. Looking down at his head, he quickly let go, while making sure john was safe and he wasn't going to fall to his death. He brought his hands to johns face but stopped himself before he could make sure he was okay. Retracting it; he assured himself that he didn't need anyone. He didn't need to see if John was okay, of course he was because Sherlock just saved his life. What was getting into him; he could plainly see that John was in perfect physical condition.

"I, er, thanks but I er... Yeah" John stammered once again, turning around a little more wary this time and stepped across to his window. He didn't turn his face to look back at Sherlock as he walked from his room and out of site; leaving Sherlock more confused than he'd ever been.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 The next day went very much the same way. Sherlock, spent his afternoon lonely and distracted and John spent his out exploring the city before finally returning home to an empty room and a aching feeling that he just couldn't place.

John walked down the path to his home. The view was becoming a normal thing for him to see, but he just couldn't get used to coming home and not being alone in his own room. Not that he didn't like having someone to talk to other than his family as usual. It's probably the quickest he has been able to make a 'friend' in his life. But he wouldn't exactly call Sherlock a friend. Their moment the day before wasn't normal, a complete stranger couldn't know so much about him from one brief meeting of pointless talking. It's not like they had gotten straight into his childhood traumas or spoke about the meaning of life. Despite this, John was still interested in what he had to say about how much he knew. He wanted to know just what excuse he would come up with, and if it would be believable. But there was so way he could think that Sherlock wasn't insane after that encounter.

The boy deserved a chance to explain himself though. So after a couple more hours of quiet reading in the back garden, he climbed the stairs to his room. He took a deep breath in, picking up as much courage as possible and strolled through the door. He tried to look as calm as possible when inside his entire body was screaming at him to turn straight back around and leave Sherlock poisoning another toad.

But to his surprise, Sherlock wasn't sat at his desk like the previous two days. His heart dropped strangely in his chest as he walked to the window. He couldn't see his whole room from the angle of the window but he could see some feet sticking out from the edge of the bed. "Sherlock!" He shouted across the alley, trying to capture the other boys attention.

The feet moved slowly but surely from the bottom of the bed to the hard floor and disappeared out of sight. He waited a couple more seconds, maybe Sherlock was getting dressed, but after 30 seconds of not even a shout back, he began to get worried. "Sherlock, are you okay? I'm sorry for storming off yesterday, you have to understand why?" He spoke again, hoping to just see that Sherlock was okay. After waiting another minute he gave up shouting and climbed, once again, out of his window and across to the opposing one. Before stepping inside, he got a good look of the whole room and saw a larger shape in the corner. This new figure was nothing like Sherlock; very small with short black hair. The figure emerged from the darkness of the corner and into plain sight.

"Mycroft Holmes-" the stranger held out his hand towards John through the now open window. He seemed strangely confident for a man who wasn't supposed to be there. "Who are you? Why are you in sherlocks room? Where is he?" John asked all at once, demanding answers. He couldn't believe this man had the nerve to stand there and look not even slightly guilty for being in someone else's room. "Mycroft Holmes, William's brother. I am in his room because he needs checking up on every now and then. And he is currently taking a well needed shower" The man, who now had a name, seemed to continue easily without even thinking out the answers he was giving. It was like he was trying to brush John off as if he had better things to do. But despite all the new information he was given, John could only pick up on one point. William. Who on earth was William? And why was he even relevant to the situation? "William Sherlock Scott Holmes, that's his full name, there is no need to look like a confused baboon" Mycroft went on. John was beginning to register all of the words that had been blurted out I front of him when his thoughts were rudely interrupted by a loud noise outside of the room.

He jerked his head to the side, staring into the empty space in the doorway "Sherlock, is that you?" John asked, as Mycroft scoffed at the name. He was really beginning to dislike this new guy, he could only wonder how Sherlock felt after 18 years of it. Sherlock walked around the corner in his towel. Only his towel. "Mycroft get out. It will seem that you found absolutely nothing of interest among my belongings so if you please" he lifted his arm towards the door, guide his nosey brother out. The door slammed shut behind him and Sherlock turned to John.

His whole body was on show; the towel only covering a small proportion. He was slim, yes, as slim as John could imagine. But every inch of his tall body was toned. He walked over to the window to close it and John could only stare in amazement. His thoughts began to wander when Sherlock ruffled his damp hair. He wanted to feel for himself the wet curls slip through his hands, and touch the sharp muscles, feeling them move sweetly beneath his fingertips.

"Um, your brother, he let me in, he was um"

"John stop mumbling, it's highly irritating. I understand my brother was her but if you can please put together a simple sentence that would be very helpful" Sherlock sounded annoyed at best.

"I haven't been here long. Mycroft, um, told me your name" John managed to recover slightly, but still unable to take his eyes off Sherlock.

"Oh of course he told you my name. Why wouldn't he tell you my name. It's not like I was getting on fine without him" he continued. Sherlock through his arms into the air in exasperation. But John didn't really see the problem, they had spoke for barely 5 minutes and nothing had happened. His mind continued to wander as Sherlock stood I front of him, abs just begging to be touched. A string of unconscious words left his mouth that slightly resembled "I'll let you get ready on your own" but he wasn't quite sure if it was even slightly coherent.

And without another word he jumped from his spot by the desk and bolted out the window. He just couldn't take another moment in that steaming room, his skin burning. Returning to his much cooler room, John took a moment to regain his thoughts, before closing the curtains and dropping down onto his bed. Being able to relax right then seemed like a ridiculous idea.


End file.
